Metaphorical Metamorphosis
by cherrychopstix
Summary: She watched the life drain from their eyes as death ran his scythe through their silver cord. Will this be an impediment for Hawke in the not so gentle transition from a not so graceful caterpillar into a bewitching butterfly? Bewitching, because you know, Hawke is a mage. Get it? Ha ha. An (unsuccessful) attempt at this story thing, with humor, angst, and not so innocent scenes.


A foot she lifted, and pressed delicately on the sand, sinking until the mushy texture of it protruded from the space within her toes. A petite, or what it seemed like an infant crab poked its two eyes out, and lifted its claws as it quickly ran over Hawke's foot.

"You think you're funny, don't you little guy? Well let me tell you, your home isn't on my foot, and even if it was... Well I won't finish that thought. I can't imagine that being a crab's home is pleasant. How does the sand do it?" Hawke contemplated her inane line of consciousness as if it were some sort of great philosophical importance, like what the meaning of life is, or other incontestable poppycock.

The crab simply kept lifting its claws and lowering them, in a gesture which resembled nodding, as if consciously acknowledging what the giant human before her was saying. Before she could do anything however, Hawke saw the waves reach the shore simultaneously with the lulling sound of the rushing water, covering her feet slightly, before pulling back into the sea, all-the-while swallowing sand, seaweed, and other debris such as broken seashells, and her little crab friend along with it.

She sighed.

Suddenly a heavy mood of melancholy metaphorically pummeled her with the intensity of a stone golem. _Everyone gone without you, and because of you. First Dad, then Bethany, and now... Carver. _Her eyes crinkled by the second as her distress grew.

"Oh, and mother... She will hate me, I will be her only daughter, and the hated one at that. The cause for their misfortunes, she will say how I wasn't good enough, strong enough, and stubborn. She warned me not to take Carver and now-" Her breath hitched as she felt her eyes brim with tears.

The afternoon sunset painted the sky in an array of purples, pinks, reds and oranges, and though the colors were of a warm saturation, she felt it fitting for her mood. She was stricken with the sudden desire to jump in to the sea, a strong need for rejuvenation, for the cleansing of the commemoration of all the regrettable choices she had decided on. And so she did. She dashed with the speed of a Hawke, and the grace of a lowtown drunk, but she found that she didn't care. She closed her eyes and jumped for freedom, for the weight in her shoulders to be lifted, for her mother, for her siblings, for herself.

And truly, this would have made for an incredibly dramatic and symbolical scene in one of Varric's ale-time stories, but when Hawke next opened her eyes, she saw that the water only reached her knees. _So much for great submergence or renewal... I had it all prettily pictured out in my head, "The rich Amell heir found her redemption in the depth of the blue seas, covered in salty water, seaweed, and..." never mind, I'm not cut out for this storytelling thing. I'll leave that to the experts. _

"Well, since I'm already in the water..."

Awkwardly, she stepped deeper into the water, picking up her drenched, and dirty robes on one hand. Once she was deep enough, she began swimming. Noticing flashes of color below the water, and slimy fluttering against her feet, Hawke turned to look and admire the fish twirl and whirl near the bottom. _Hmm... I wonder._

An idea made itself present in her mind, and she reached out her hand under water. A miniscule fish came close to her hand, and magic glowed from underneath the water, carrying a sort of ethereal mystique. Suddenly, an encasement of ice formed around the fish, so that the ice was a poor resemblance of a circular structure with a hollow inside, and the fish was swimming inside. The ice )floated above the water, and the fish, exposed to a world it had never seen before, fluttered its tail fervently. So Hawke, mistaking the reaction for elation on the fish's part, (because it had never seen the surface. They were like dwarves! Except dwarves aren't proficient swimmers because of their short appendages, and were completely shunned if they experienced the surface.) and so she began encasing all nearby fishes in their icy prisons with her elemental magic. All the little fishes floated up to the surface of the water, and soon enough she was surrounded by all of them.

There was a faint orange glow in the distance, and smoke rising from it. Hawke guessed her companions had not waited for her to set up camp, when she heard the sloshing of heavy boots getting nearer and spotted short silhouette approaching.

"I figured I should come before you decide that freezing the whole ocean is a good way of coping with grief" said Varric, with an amused smile at the scene before him.

Hawke sank her head halfway through the water, so only her cerulean eyes remained untouched, but it wasn't long before her stamina gave out and the water began bubbling from her expulsion of air. Fully dipping her head into the water, she then stood up and began walking towards the shore where Varric was.

"Well aren't you a sight for sea-monster sore eyes?" Varric said as he pulled a seaweed from Hawke's shoulder and threw it back into the sea.

"Why, aren't you a debonair flower with sprouting glib?" Hawke said as she shook her head like a Fereldan mabari hound, shaking all the water from her and onto Varric.

"Hey! Easy! Easy, girl!" He said as he brought quick distance between them,"I'm a dwarf Hawke. Short, with sodding poor water tolerance, and always in need of handicapped swimming. I'm-"

"Allergic to seawater, yes, I remember. Is camp finished setting up?" Hawke asked as she and Varric began walking towards the encampment.

"Your broody elf-pet is out collecting some more wood to get the fire going through the night."

"My broody elf...- you know what.? I just recalled I always wanted to test that 'dwarves-can't-swim' theory, and you'd be an excellent test subject, you smart-mouth prick you."

"Did I say your elf-pet? What I meant was your broody knight in spiky armor- ouch!" Cried Varric as Hawke sent a small shock of electricity, painful but otherwise harmless, into his buttocks.

"You can't expect to ogle the elf as you do and not having Kirkwall's greatest storyteller formulating an unmatched chronicle." Varric said as he rubbed his sensitive, slightly charred rear area.

Narrowing her eyes at Varric and dissipating her magic from her glowing hand, Hawke said "You know, I think there is an ocean demon calling to me in need of a dwarven sacrifice. Shall we commence?"

"Hawke, you can be a frightening woman. I think I'll stick to safer subjects."

"Smart man."

"I expect that we shall be back in the City of Chains midday tomorrow" Varric pointed out. Both he and Hawke had reached the camp, but Fenris was nowhere to be found.

"Don't remind me. I'm not looking forward to it."

There were two tents set up, one was for Hawke, and the other was shared by her Varric and Fenris. She had insisted that there was no need for extra trouble, and she would be fine being in the same tent, but Fenris had being adamant that she get her own tent, for he would not share his sleeping space with a mage, because he wasn't certain what sort of witchery she would conjure during their most vulnerable moments. With a look of dejection, Hawke had conceded, and therefore two tents were set up every night, however, Varric was the only one who had noticed the impossible-to-miss blushing ears of the elf when the thought of sharing bedding with their fearless leader had been presented to him. Clearly, Varric had speculated, Hawke had mistaken that unmistakeable glow for anger. Varric was thoroughly amused and decided on semi-harmless teasing on both of his companions.

Just as Hawke began to crudely and openly strip from her drenched robes, a towel hit her on the face.

"Do not be so indecent. You may be a mage, but you're still a woman." Fenris said as he sat dawn before the fire.

When had he gotten there? The wood was even impeccably arranged for easy maintenance of the fire place.

"Yes, dad." Hawke mumbled grumpily and noticed Fenris's glare. She lifted her chin stubbornly and turned away from him towards her tent, she opened the flaps and entered.

Varric sat not too far from Fenris, who was roasting some of the meat in his pack, with a smirk that looked like the cat who ate the canary.

"What, dwarf?"

"Well _elf_, here I was just wondering what the point of bringing all that wood was when that blush is bright enough to light all this place" Varric said smugly.

Smoke began coming from the meat he was roasting, and Fenris quickly took it out, but noticed the meat was slightly burned. He turned to Varric angrily.

"And do you know what else will be glowing? Your heart in my hand, when I tear it out." Fenris articulated the last few words more profoundly to emphasize his point.

"Well, never mind, I think your glares do a better job anyway."

Just then Hawke emerged from her tent, her hair in a matted mess, and her eyes slightly swollen. Whether from exhaustion or tears, neither Varric nor Fenris knew.

"You are going to be a noble Hawke. You cannot go making appearances around the city looking so... inadequate. In Tevinter, a mage as powerful as yourself would be disparaged, and regared as incapable because of your appearance"

"Well, _ thank you _for your input Fenris. I, for one, do not care for a maleficar's customs. What's for dinner?" She said as she looked over Fenris's shoulder.

"Whatever you've brought for yourself" said Fenris as he moved his food away from Hawke.

"I see. Well, I don't have an appetite, and I don't care much for charred meat anyway, so I'm turning in to bed. " Hawke said as she turned her back on him and went back into her tent, with Fenris's glare following her until she disappeared behind the flaps.

"You have unique ways of wooing, elf." Said Varric with a disapproving sound, as he too followed Hawke with his eyes. He worried that their fearless leader was breaking down, she had not eaten for the past few days, and she already looked thinner from malnourishment. Not to mention, she had been talking in her sleep, calling out Carver's name and Bethany's, sometimes even spouting a litany of 'forgive me, mother, I didn't mean it, forgive me'. This worried Varric.

"I'm not trying to woo a mage, dwarf."

"uh-huh" Varric said, sounding unconvinced, which served to further irritate Fenris. However, the dwarf knew his limits and decided not to push it. He searched through his pack to look for his own meal. The two men proceeded to eat their meal in silence.

They both heard a heavy thud on the ground coming from Hawke's tent not too long after she entered. Fenris and Varric looked at each other. No more sounds came from her tent. Then, they both put their food carefully down, and approached carefully. Fenris opened a flap and saw Hawke splayed on the floor, not on her bed. She was deathly pale.

"She fainted! Quick, get her on the bed, I'll go look for elfroot." Varric said as he rushed out of the tent.

This was the uncomfortable part for Fenris, as he was not used to touching others, nonetheless a mage. But Hawke had helped him, and he supposed this was a way of repaying.

"Foolish woman, how long did you think you could go without nourishment?" He said mostly to himself as she pick her up, her head slightly dangling. Laying her in the bed, he checked her pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Fenris noticed her eyes were fluttering lazily open, but she was still turning strange colors. Varric came back into the tent, opened a vial of red liquid , and put it to her mouth.

"Drink this Hawke" Varric said, but Hawke's eyes seemed almost drained from life, barely comprehending what the dwarf was telling her. Her eyes were closing, but Varric shook her as to keep her awake. She slowly gulped down the potion, with a bit of trouble, therefore some of it spilled from her mouth. Opening another vile, though this time containing lyrium, Varric gave put it to her lips again, and color was returning to her face. Varric let her close her eyes this time as to not have her go into shock. Looking over at Fenris, Varric almost laughed. The elf had a contorted countenance of disgust, worry and annoyance.

"I think it's better for you to retire to bed, you look like shit. Worse than Hawke a minute ago. She will be fine, broody." Fenris snapped out of his troubled reverie and turned away from the dwarf after sending a glare his way, and made his way out of the tent.

Later that night, Hawke awoke feeling better than before going to sleep. Actually, she did not even remember getting into bed. Her stomach grumbled, and she sighed. She rubbed the sleppiness from her eyes, when she spotted a plate of food at the foot of her bed, a piece of cooked but slightly charred meat on it. Although Hawke didn't smile, she did feel just the tiniest bit of weight lift off her shoulders.


End file.
